by Kailin Gow
I keep going like that for almost a minute before I remember what happened with the walls. Before I realize that the cuffs aren’t even getting very hot, let alone melting away from my skin.
“What…” I begin, but by then it’s obvious that what I’m doing is useless, so I call the power back into me. No, not call. Drag. It’s an effort to shove it back down inside me when it hasn’t destroyed anything. An effort that leaves beads of sweat standing out on my forehead.
Hammond stares at me, not in shock, but with obvious satisfaction. “One of the research companies I own has been doing work with advanced materials. Once it became clear that we might need to snatch you, Celestra, it seemed like those would come in useful.”
Meaning that I’m trapped. Again, just the thought of that is enough to make fear spring up in me, enough that my breath comes quickly, and it’s hard to even think.
“Try to relax,” Hammond says, stepping past Jack as he starts to move to comfort me. “You aren’t in any danger right now, young lady.”
“It’s all right,” Jack says, finally reaching me. “It’s going to be fine, Celes.” He looks over at Hammond. “This is totally unnecessary.”
Hammond shakes his head. “I disagree. For one thing, I hope it shows you how serious I am about this. For another, it means that Celestra and Grayson here won’t be knocking out any more of my men. It also means that they’re able to come out of the cell when we need them to in order to allow us to study what Celestra can do.”
“Study me?” I take a step back towards the wall automatically. “I’m not a guinea pig.”
“But what you can do is fascinating,” Hammond says. “I’d like to be able to better understand it. If you’re really generating power from nowhere, it could potentially benefit a lot of people.”
“Leave Celes alone.” Jack and Grayson say that almost simultaneously. Grayson starts forward, but is dragged back by the minder who has cuffed him. Jack moves closer to Hammond.
“You want to think very carefully about what you’re doing,” Jack says. “If you know who the Underground are, and you know who the Others are, then you’ll know that you don’t want either group for enemies. Let Celes and Grayson go, and I’ll see what I can do for your son.”
Hammond shakes his head. “You’ve already shown that you aren’t interested in doing that, so we have to do things the other way. Bring me the means to alter my son’s memories, get your father to agree to help, or these two stay locked up. Help me, and they can go. I’m not interested in hurting them. If you’re in a mood to make threats though, remember this. Soon I’ll be the president of the United States, with all the resources that go with that. Trust me, son, you don’t want to go there.”
Jack stands there for several seconds. Is he calculating how to break us all out of there? Is he planning a sudden attack? No, it seems he isn’t. He nods instead.
“I’ll do what you ask.”
FIVE
Hammond steps aside, gesturing to the door. “It’s time for you to go, Jack.”
Jack nods. “In a second.”
He steps over to me, putting his arms around my neck and staring into my eyes. Somehow, it always comes as a surprise to see how much he loves me in moments like that. Maybe it’s just that he keeps his emotions so shut down the rest of the time, or maybe it’s just that I can’t get the hang of anyone loving me that deeply. He leans in and kisses me sweetly, simply. Then, just for a moment or two, his lips brush my ear.
“Don’t trust Hammond,” he whispers. “His story might have some truth in it, but there’s more going on here. I’m sure of it.”
I can’t answer. All I can do is hold onto Jack a moment longer.
“That’s enough,” Hammond says. “Assuming Jack here does as I’ve asked, then you’ll see one another again soon enough.”
Jack pulls away and steps through the door to the cell ahead of Hammond. The two bodyguards follow. The instant they’re through that gap, the door slides shut again, trapping me and Grayson in that tiny, empty cell. Only now we’re both cuffed as well, which is anything but comfortable. I can’t help testing the limits of the things, so that pretty soon, my wrists start to chafe from being held like that. I sit down on the edge of the bed, trying to force myself to relax. It doesn’t work. I can’t relax in a place like this, not with what’s going on around us.
“Jack will be back,” Grayson says, obviously seeing how worked up I’m getting.
That makes me smile. “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d rely on Jack.”
Grayson manages to shrug, even handcuffed. “He cares about you, Celes. I’m not going to deny that. He’ll do whatever it takes to get you to safety. Just remember that I would too.”
That’s hard to forget, though thanks to being faded, Grayson managed it for a while. Now though, he obviously remembers everything, which doesn’t make things any easier, because I love Jack. I love him, more than just about anything. I can remember what I had with Grayson, and the way it ended… well, that wasn’t good, but it’s Jack my heart beats faster at the thought of, even though he isn’t here.
“Do you think they’re just going to leave us like this?” I ask.
Grayson shakes his head. “They can’t. Not for long, anyway. I’m more worried about what Hammond said about running tests on you.”
“Maybe he just said that to frighten Jack.”
“Maybe.” Grayson doesn’t look convinced. “I can’t believe this guy’s running for president and he’s still willing to do this.”
“Whatever he’s doing, it must be a big deal,” I say.
Grayson nods. “Jack doesn’t think he’s telling the truth, does he?”
I shake my head. “You heard him?”
“I heard him.”
“What I don’t get,” I say, “is how Hammond knows so much about us. He knows about the Faders and the Others. Do you think what he said about there being secret committees that know about them is true?”
“Probably,” Grayson says, like it makes sense. I guess it does, kind of. I can’t believe that two organizations as big as the Others and the Underground could exist without someone knowing about them, and the government would want to keep a watch on any group that large and powerful, even if it never did anything about it.
“Of course,” Grayson says, “it could be something else.”
“Like what?”
“He could be connected to the Underground or the Others directly.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way, but it makes a kind of sense. Hammond could be lying. It could all be a set-up of some kind. But if so, what is he trying to achieve. All he’s done so far is get Jack to go fetch his father. But isn’t that enough?
“It could be the Others,” I say.
Grayson looks at me questioningly. “Why them? Why not the Underground?”
I try to explain, but I’m not sure it makes that much sense. “Because he only let Jack out. Why not send both of you? Your dad might not be Sebastian Cook, but he might still be able to help with fading someone. If he let you both go and kept me, wouldn’t that improve his odds of one of you coming back with the kind of help he says he wants?”
“Maybe he thinks he needs more hostages,” Grayson suggests.
“Or maybe it’s Sebastian that he wants,” I say.
Grayson finally seems to get it, a look of surprise crossing his square jawed features. “You mean that this could all be about trying to capture Jack’s father again?”
“Why not?” I say. “If the Others sent some kind of team to the farm to snatch him, but they couldn’t find him, maybe taking us was the next best thing.”
“Or maybe it isn’t the Others at all,” Grayson points out.
I shut my eyes for a moment. “Maybe not. I guess I just want this to be simple. It’s easier if I can blame it on the Others, I guess.”
Grayson smiles at me like he understands. “I know. If it’s all the Others, rather than some guy just deciding to do
this, then it’s easy. We beat them and it’s over. If it isn’t just them, then where does it end?”
That’s it exactly. If I can blame this, and everything else, on just one twisted organization, then life gets easier. It means that things can be solved easily. It means that I don’t have to accept that normal people can do bad things. Like Grayson said, Hammond is meant to be running for president. If a man doing that can do something like this, then what about everyone else? No, I can’t think like that, or I’ll go crazy.
“You know what I think?” Grayson says, standing up.
I shake my head. “What?”
“I think we need to start work on getting out of here again. That way, no matter what’s going on, we aren’t in the middle of it. We can warn Jack and his father.”
He’s right. Of course he’s right. But saying it and doing it are two different things. It seems like we don’t have time, either, because in that moment the door to the cell opens again to let in one of the large men who came in with Wilson Hammond. His blond hair is buzz-cut short, his muscles bulge through his suit, and he’s wearing wraparound shades as well as black gloves that don’t really fit with the suit. Grayson half turns towards him… and then collapses to the floor unconscious as the bodyguard punches him right on the jaw.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I demand, but in that moment he takes a swing at me too. I barely dodge it, feeling the rush of air as the punch goes past my head. I get a good look as it happens of Grayson there on the floor, completely out. I know he’s going to be fine. I know he’ll heal, but right then, that sight is enough to send fury bursting through me.
Something in me snaps and I charge at the bodyguard. My hands are still tied behind me, and he’s far bigger than I am, far stronger. Right then that doesn’t matter. I slam my shoulder into him, and the power in me is already rushing through me hard enough that I knock him back into the opposite wall, shoving into him. He spins me around, pulling me back tight against him with gloved hands, but that doesn’t matter. If anything, it makes things easier.
I lift my cuffed hands behind me, placing them on the shirt of the man attacking me. Grabbing hold of it so he won’t get away. I don’t want him to just stop after what he’s done. I want him dead. It’s so easy to use my power in that moment. As easy as it has been when Jack has been in danger before. So easy that it would be harder not to use it. I take that force, and it pours out of my hands into the man holding me. Before, I didn’t want to do this, but now, when he’s hurt Grayson like that… now nothing can stop me.
The man cries out in pain as a white hot glow surrounds us both. He cries out, but he holds on, keeping a tight grip on me while his arm wraps around my throat. He makes a sound that is more animal than human, so full of pain that it’s amazing he can still stand, but he manages to start squeezing anyway.
I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe, and he’s still squeezing, even though I’m pouring all the energy I can out of my hands. He’ll stop soon though. He’ll stop when there’s nothing left of him but ashes. The part of me that thinks that seems far too happy about it, but right then, the rest of me is busy working hard not to pass out. If I can just hold on a little longer…
He isn’t burning. Why isn’t he burning? There’s heat there, because he’s obviously in pain, but he isn’t disintegrating. He isn’t dying. He’s even able to keep squeezing so that I fight and struggle, straining for breath. It feels like there’s far too much pressure in my head. Like I’m going to explode. I can see hints of blackness on the edges of my vision, and it’s hard to concentrate on just keeping the power going. So hard. Even harder than fighting for oxygen.
My mind starts to drift, and I realize something feels strange about the cloth of the bodyguard’s suit where his elbow it tucked under my chin. For a fraction of a second it seems like nothing more than the random observation of a brain quickly shutting down, but then I remember what Wilson Hammond said about his company working on new materials. The suit must be made from the same stuff as the walls, meaning…
Meaning that even if I’m hurting the man attacking me, it isn’t going to stop him. He’s protected by his suit. He won’t burn, no matter how much energy I use in doing it. I need to… need to…
It’s too late. I gasp for air, but it’s too late. I was so certain that I could break free. So certain, and so angry. Now, I can’t think. Can’t even move. My legs give way, and for the next few seconds the bodyguard holds me up so that he can keep squeezing. Then he lowers me to the ground beside Grayson. I stare up at him and he frowns down at me.
“Still awake?” he says. His face looks red, like he’s been sunburnt, but he doesn’t sound like he’s in pain right then. “Well, I guess we can deal with that.”
He leans over me and I will my body to respond, but right then it simply doesn’t seem to be able to. He draws one gloved hand back carefully, then I feel the punch slam into my jaw, the way it connected with Grayson’s earlier. This time the darkness washes over me completely, and I don’t feel anything after that.
SIX
When I open my eyes, Grayson is there, staring down at me with obvious concern. His hands are on my shoulders. My jaw aches, and I groan as he helps me to sit up. I look around. We’re sitting on a flat orange couch at one side of a large room with brightly colored walls made of the same material as the cell, a breakfast bar at one end, an open door that appears to lead through to some kind of bathroom, and in between…
In between, it’s like the kind of room a teenager might come up with if they were given an unlimited budget to play with. There’s a huge TV dominating one wall, with a rack of games consoles under it that looks like it could run a spaceship. There’s an armchair so big that it looks almost like a joke, and a low pool table off in one corner. There are boxes around the walls, which look like they could contain almost anything. The whole place looks like it was designed to entertain someone who was very, very rich.
Is this designed to make us comfortable? It looks like a great kind of place, but I notice that my hands are still cuffed. They’ve been moved in front of me, giving me a small amount of movement, but the cuffs are rigid metal ones, which make it hard to do much with my hands. So this isn’t just about our comfort. Or maybe it is, but there are definitely limits to it. The heat resistant material on the walls and the lack of an obvious exit both make that very clear.
“You’re awake,” Grayson says. “I was starting to worry. I had to plead with them before they’d even let me put an ice pack on your bruising.”
“Do you know where we are?” I ask, before my mind moves to the obvious question. “Why am I still cuffed?”
“Sorry,” Grayson says, helping me to stand. “I tried to get them to un-cuff you, but they said you were too dangerous. I think they’re scared of what you can do, Celes. My ability doesn’t seem to frighten them as much.”
“They know about what you can do?” I ask, and Grayson gestures to his face, then very gently touches my jaw. I wince.
“It was kind of obvious, I guess,” Grayson says. I guess that it would have been, with the bruises on him fading completely while mine blossomed. I can kind of understand Wilson Hammond’s men not seeing it as threatening, either. After all, the ability to heal injuries might be useful, but it isn’t exactly a weapon. Whereas if I could touch exposed skin…
Well, I’d probably still be trapped in whatever room I was in. The materials from Hammond’s companies are almost perfect, when it comes to stopping me. I just wish that they hadn’t managed to come up with handcuffs made from the stuff.
“I guess that they’ve been observing us for a little while too,” Grayson says. “They probably saw what happened back at the farmhouse.”
The farmhouse. Where I used my power on Grayson by accident. Where he survived it along with everything that one of Lionel’s rogue Faders could throw at him. Where Jonah told me that my powers might not be alien after all, but merely something thousands of years beyond anything humanity had
evolved into so far. Did I tell Grayson that part? I start as I realize that I didn’t. He deserves to know.
“Grayson…”
I don’t finish that thought, because at that point a door opens in a section of wall where I hadn’t even spotted a door when I was looking around. A woman steps through. She has short blonde hair and is probably in her mid-thirties, wearing a relatively simple dark dress and looking at us both slightly nervously. She’s carrying a tray, on which there are two plates containing what looks like meatloaf.
“Hi,” I say, and she starts slightly. I’m not sure why she would, except that of course I’m wearing handcuffs, and she’s probably been told just how dangerous I am. Maybe she’s even been told outright not to talk to us. She certainly hurries out of the room once she’s put the plates down on the breakfast counter.
It occurs to me then that we could have escaped in that moment. Trained bodyguards might be too much for me and Grayson, but one maid, or cook, or assistant wouldn’t be. But I’m not going to do that. Hurting her won’t solve anything. There are probably people waiting outside the door just in case we try it, and in any case, she obviously isn’t one of Hammond’s thugs. It wouldn’t be right.
I’m starving, and I head over to the counter, trying to work on the meatloaf as best I can with my hands still cuffed. It’s awkward. Really awkward. So awkward in fact that in the end Grayson spears a bit of it with his fork and offers it to me.
“Here,” he says, “let me help.”
I eat it gratefully, and the bite after that. It’s such an intimate thing, sitting there with Grayson feeding me like that. It reminds me of when we were back at school together, in the cafeteria, and I would steal bits of food off his plate. Or of the kind of romantic meal you see in movies. Except that there, the woman generally isn’t handcuffed.
We eat, and after a while the door opens again, letting the woman in with what looks like dessert. Large slices of chocolate cake topped with cherries. It isn’t exactly prison food. She puts it down without a word and leaves, but I don’t get the chance to eat the forkful of the stuff Grayson picks up, because at that moment we have more visitors. Senator Hammond is there, along with his two thugs.
